


Smile, darn ya, smile

by Petra



Category: DCU - Comicverse, Teen Titans (comic)
Genre: Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-26
Updated: 2005-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-11 19:08:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/115912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petra/pseuds/Petra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim's had enough hurt lately. It's time for some industrial-strength comfort, guaranteed to cause diabetic shock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smile, darn ya, smile

**Author's Note:**

> Post Identity Crisis, Post Teen Titans v3 #20. More Young Justice-feeling than TT; i.e. not dark, not concerned with wider social issues. Written as a self-indulgence.

The concept of morning in the Titans Tower is a bit fuzzy of late, what with different people's schedules and conflicts during the week. The eight-o'clock wakeup calls have evaporated, leaving only the absolute, unquestioned necessity to be available when the alarm goes. Accordingly, Tim takes the opportunity to avoid waking up as long as possible. At least he's in a somewhat familiar bed, which helps.

The third time he tries to roll over and burrow back into unconsciousness without wondering what time it is, though, he can't roll over. He tries to sit up in alarm and can't do that, and when he tries to reach for whatever the bonds are, he can't do that, either. Over the thudding of his heart -- he shouldn't panic, panicking won't help -- he hears Kon say, "Hey. Morning."

"What's going on?" Tim asks. That explains why he can't feel anything holding him down, at least; Kon doesn't need rope to immobilize anyone. He catalogues Kon's known weaknesses in his head. It could be various types of mind control, it could be Poison Ivy again if she's left Gotham, it could be --

"You're not supposed to get out of bed yet." Kon gives him a push with his TTK that makes Tim turn onto his back. In the dim light from the hallway, he can't see anything clearly wrong with Kon, but that's hardly conclusive.

It's not a good idea to argue with a mind-controlled meta, at least not when anything he could use for distraction is out of his reach. He asks, "Why not?"

"'cause then you can't have breakfast there." And that's Cassie's voice, along with the smell of breakfast. Is there a supervillain with a breakfast fixation? It would be hard for Batman to investigate; kind of outside his normal purview, at the very least.

Someone turns on the lights, and Bart says, "And that would miss the opportunity." There's weight on the end of Tim's bed now, someone sitting there, and Kon lets up enough so he can move his head -- but still not his hands. Bart's grinning at him, and then he hugs Tim in a blurring pounce that Tim might not have been able to dodge even if he had his hands free. Bart's wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. His hair tickles Tim's nose, and his whole body's shivering and well above normal body temperature, though probably not outside parameters for a speedster. Whatever got Kon, if it's what's affecting Bart, is either not a drug or something they managed to put in the air through the whole Tower. Not a good sign.

"No fair!" Kon says, and the TTK field shifts a little to push Bart off the bed. Tim still can't move, and then Kon's on the bed next to him, lifting his torso up and stuffing pillows behind his head. Sooner or later, Kon's going to get tired with all this micro-manipulation.

"What are you doing?" Tim asks. A glare bounces right off the Bat-symbol on Kon's t-shirt. Only appropriate.

Kon rolls his eyes. "We're feeding you breakfast, dumbass."

"Can't you smell it?" Cassie smiles. "It's not amazing and nutritious, but we tried." She sets a tray on the air over Tim's lap. Tim wonders who's told them to make these things. Maybe it's some new Breakfast Boy, exposing the world to decadence and mind-warping drugs via the temptation of somewhat mottled waffles with strawberries, what smells distinctly like cinnamon sugar toast, cocoa, and coffee.

He tries to remind himself it might be drugged, but it doesn't look drugged, and it wouldn't be that easy to take out Kon, Cassie, and Bart all at the same time, at least not for most of the bad guys he can think of with his stomach growling.

"Plus we brought you company." Bart must have left and come back, because he has an armful of stuffed dolls. "The whole Batfamily," he says, and makes the teddy bear in the black cowl wave at Tim. In a bad imitation of Batman, he says, "Time to rest and recuperate, Robin. Isn't that right, chum?" He holds up a Robin doll and squeaks, "Holy maple syrup, Batman, you're right!"

Tim hears Kon snort and feels the tray start to fall. He catches it and holds the edges through the blankets. The coffee sloshes a little. "Okay, guys, very funny. You can go now."

Cassie picks up the tray again and Tim shifts into a better position, further up the bed. They all have the advantage of speed over him, no matter what he does. "No, we can't."

Bart brings him a lap blanket, crotcheted in what would generally be really stereotypical grandmother--yarn colors except that instead, they're Robin colors. Tim wonders whose grandmother has that particular taste, but Bart's hugging him again. "Calm down, Tim." He hands the tray back, and Tim takes it. The smell is definitely making him hungry. This Toastmaster? Pancake Person? Waffle Woman? Whomever it is, the tactics are devious.

Kon's glaring at him. "Stop worrying and eat your stupid breakfast."

Bart sets a Nightwing doll on his comforter. "Please, Tim?" The beseeching look is pure Bart. "Just have breakfast."

"It's getting cold," Cassie says, frowning at him.

Maple Syrup Man's evil plan is definitely working, because Tim takes a bite of the waffle. "Okay. It's good. Thanks."

Kon tousles his hair, not that that affects it much. "Yeah, right, Wonder Boy. Say it like you mean it, maybe."

There's a lump in Tim's throat. It's not the waffle, and he's not going to cry in front of them. "I mean it." The cinnamon sugar has melted into interesting patterns on the toast. "Thanks, guys. I appreciate it."

"Excellent." Bart's sitting up next to him in bed, now, tucked in under an afghan that must have been designed by someone who really liked Kid Flash, or was profoundly color blind. "Can I have some of your toast?"

"You already ate," Cassie says, but she's laughing, and she sits on the end of Tim's bed, tucking her feet under her.

"Like an hour ago, yeah."

Tim hands Bart a piece of toast. He's going to have to wash the sheets to get the crumbs out anyway.

"Move over," Kon says, and pokes Tim's shoulder. He sits on the edge of the bed, hunched in on himself a little. "You guys, there's plenty of room."

"Oh!" Bart says, and he's gone long enough for Tim to move over. When he gets back, Kon has a black lap blanket with an S-shield on it, and an arm around Tim's shoulders for balance. There isn't quite room for all three of them if Tim's eating, but they can make it work.

"Where are you getting those?" Tim asks, between bites of waffle that still don't taste drugged.

"I made them," Bart says, miming crotcheting. "They take a long time."

Cassie laughs. "You have a promising career ahead of you. Doesn't he, Batgirl?" And she makes the Batgirl doll say, "He'll be a very good grandmother."

"Oh, come on, Cassie. I know that's not going to happen." Bart's starting to fidget. It makes the bed warmer, and it makes Kon seem even more stable, so Tim leans on him a little. Kon is warm, not weirdly hot, and he's not going to move away. Kon squeezes Tim's shoulder.

"I'm teasing, okay?" Cassie throws Batgirl at Bart, who catches the doll and gathers up the other ones.

By the time Tim's sipping his coffee, the tray's on the floor and Bart's putting on a puppet show from the end of the bed, making Cassie do the Batgirl voice. Bart's Batbear says, "Actually, Nightwing, I designed the Batmobile so I could pick up chicks," and Cassie makes Batgirl swoon into Batbear's arms. Tim shakes his head, grinning, and feels Kon chuckle next to him.

"That's not what they're like, is it?" Bart asks, a little nervously.

"No, but yours probably get along better." Tim shrugs. "It's a lot simpler when you've just got fluff for brains."

"Maybe we should have a set of these of us," Cassie says, petting Robin's cape. "Then we could have, you know, fake arguments and throw Starfire at people."

Tim smiles. "She probably wouldn't like that."

"It would be funny, though." Bart peers at the stitching on the Batbear. "I could make them, probably."

"You should start with the founders," Kon says. "Then people could get used to the idea, and you could sneak in more members when you got good at it. I bet Cyborg isn't the easiest guy to make into a doll."

"Probably not." Bart gets up, leaving the dolls in a heap. "I'm going to go see what I'll need."

"Hang on," Tim says, holding up a hand. It's warm under the afghan, next to Kon, even though they don't strictly speaking have to be that close without Bart fidgeting on the other side of the bed. "I mean -- thanks, guys. Really."

Bart grins, and Cassie smiles, and Kon squeezes his shoulder. "It's okay, Tim."

"What are friends for?" Bart asks, and then he's gone, taking the Batbear.

"I should really get up," Tim says, and Kon gets out of bed, suddenly awkward.

"Yeah, of course. Sorry."

"It's okay," Tim says. He gets up and stretches.

Cassie says, "I'll get out of your way," and she grabs the rest of the dolls. She hesitates for a second, then hugs Tim. "See you in a few."

"Yeah. Thanks for breakfast." Which really, probably didn't have anything weird in it, not even too much salt. His head feels perfectly clear.

"You're welcome." She leaves with the armful of dolls.

Tim folds his arms and glares at Kon. "And the next time you use your TTK on me, I'll kick your ass."

Kon goes sheepish. Maybe it's something in the air in Smallville. "Sorry. I didn't know how else to make you wait for us."

"You could have asked," Tim says with asperity, although he's pretty sure he would have argued with them if they'd tried.

"Right, and you could have said no."

"Ask next time." Maybe Kon isn't as young as he used to be, or as easily led, but Tim has a perfectly good command voice and he's not afraid to use it.

"Fine." Kon folds his arms and glares back for a second. "Oh, shut up and hug me."

It's awkward, and Kon's bigger than his dad or Steph (don't go there, Tim) or Dana or anybody he's hugged in a long time, but he's also warmer and more real, more there. Kon thumps his shoulder, not too hard, just enough to make it a friendly hug. Tim lets him go and tries to glare again, but he loses it. "Thanks."

"Hey, no problem." Kon runs a hand through his hair. "I'll, um, see you later."

"Yeah."

After the door shuts behind Kon, Tim makes the bed and leaves Bart's blankets in a stack at the end. They might be useful later, after all.


End file.
